


Lead Me Through The Dark

by Baccatapages



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Fluff, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Instability, Mentioned suicide, More tags to be added, Panic Attacks, Past Brainwashing, Polyamory, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Queen!Reader, Self Confidence Issues, Slavery, Sub!Bucky Barnes, Vomit, dom!reader, sub!Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-10-27 03:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17758796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baccatapages/pseuds/Baccatapages
Summary: His new Mistress, Mistress ‘call me y/n’ L/n was beautiful. She had a natural beauty and gentle kindness that was rare amongst people nowadays. Steve had never seen a woman dressed in armour before and had to admit that if he weren’t a slave, he wouldn’t dare challenge her. For all her aura, it was clear she ran things with an iron fist.





	1. The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is helpful and kudos/comments fuels my motivation :-)

“When did you say she’d be here?” Pierce demanded, tapping his foot impatiently.

Strucker checked his watch. “She said she would be here at half nine.”

“What time is it now?”

“Uh… ten?”

Pierce gritted his teeth. He knew very well that he had to be patient; he needed Y/n’s support and right now she was the only thing standing in Hydra’s way. Y/n’s people were a neutral but powerful force and it had come to his attention that the Iron Kingdom were having some contact with her, no doubt to try and sway her over to their side. That would not do and so he demanded for a meeting with Y/n. Her people had obliged, promised y/n would arrive at half nine and left Pierce, Strucker and their peace offering in the meeting room for over an hour.

The doors eventually opened and Y/n walked in, her bodyguard following closely behind. From what Pierce knew of Y/n’s people and their culture, women took more active roles in society and the men were often the ones taking the role of the traditional housewife. It made Pierce wrinkle his nose as he took in Y/n and her armour. It was clearly made for her, protecting the most vital parts but remaining light enough for her to remain quick on her feet. Her bodyguard, a lithe woman with blood-red hair and an intense expression that was fixed on Pierce.

“Sit.” The bodyguard said tersely, gesturing to the tables and chairs. Pierce and his company had been warned to not sit until told to and they had grudgingly agreed. The three of them sat on one side of the table while Y/n and her bodyguard sat on the other. “State your business.”

“I am Alexander Pierce, King of Hydra. This is my advisor, Strucker. We would like to negotiate support.”

The red-head raised an eyebrow after translating for Y/n. “Support? For what?”

“Support for an attack against the Iron Kingdom.”

Y/n huffed a laugh and said something to her bodyguard in her mother tongue. The redhead’s lips quirked, as if she were trying not to laugh and then she turned to Pierce. “The Iron Kingdom has been an ally of ours since before the Great War.”

Pierce smiled. “I thought you would say that. I just figured the bitch would like some incentive to help us or else we’ll kill her and her people.” The redhead spoke slowly and Pierce wondered what she was saying to her Queen. Pierce waved a hand to the gift on his left who had kept his eyes fixed on the table, head bowed. “An exotic creature from the South. Gold is an unusual colour for hair.” He brushed a hand through the slave’s hair and wasn’t particularly bothered when the slave flinched away from him. “He would fetch a pretty penny in the market.”

Y/n leaned back in her chair, said something to her bodyguard and stood. She made a universal gesture of ‘come here’ and the slave slowly got to his feet, trying not to look her in the eye and got down on his knees before her. Y/n examined the slave carefully without touching him and at one point caught his eye to which he flinched and looked away.

“The slave belongs to Y/n now, yes?” The redhead prompted.

“Yes.” Pierce’s smile widened. “I take it you accept our gift?”

Y/n said something to the redhead, a fair chunk of speech, never taking her eyes off the slave. The redhead nodded at her Queen then turned her attention to Pierce again. “You have given us a gift. It is only customary that we give you one in return.”

Pierce’s eyebrows flew up to his hairline. “Oh? And what is that?”

“Your life. And the lives of all of your people. In exchange for this priceless gift, you will release all of the slaves you have in that city of yours.” The red head said coolly. “Do you understand?”

Pierce’s face reddened. “You bitch! The whore can’t do this! I will never yield to you!”

Y/n’s expression hardened and the redhead leaned back, evidently expecting something. “The Iron Kingdom is an age-old ally. You think a gift of a slave will break years of friendship? Me and the Iron King have played together, fought together. We grew up together. Nothing will change that, least of all you.” Her eyes fell on the slave. “Come with me.” She held out her hand and the slave hesitantly took it, rising to his feet.

She didn’t look back as she left the redhead with Pierce and Strucker.

She didn’t look back at the sound of the Hydra King’s screams.

 

Steve was… confused.

He’d been primped and pampered, which was strange in itself, and then taken to somewhere that Master Pierce called a ‘neutral location’. Then they waited for over an hour as Master Pierce became increasingly frustrated.

His new Mistress, Mistress ‘call me y/n’ L/n was beautiful. She had a natural beauty and gentle kindness that was rare amongst people nowadays. Steve had never seen a woman dressed in armour before and had to admit that if he weren’t a slave, he wouldn’t dare challenge her. For all her aura, it was clear she ran things with an iron fist.

Y/n led him to where a pair of horses were grazing. She clicked her tongue and the nearest, a dusky silver horse, trotted over and nuzzled Y/n. “Can you ride a horse?” Mistress L/n asked Steve. He shook his head. “You’ll ride with me.” Mistress Y/n was looking at him expectantly and Steve clambered awkwardly onto the horse. Mistress Y/n climbed on in front of him so she held the reins and urged the horse on. Steve glanced back and saw the redhead on her own horse looking bored, cleaning blood from a knife.

“Do you have a name?” Mistress Y/n asked once they were securely on the road.

“Steve, Mistress. But he will answer to any name you give him.” Steve said quietly.

“Where are you from originally?”

“I think I am from the Fire Isles.” Steve said.

“Hm. Did you know the Fire Isles were named so because it is said that the sun favoured them in the days of creation and gave them the gift of fire.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised. “No, mistress, I didn’t.” He spoke again, hesitantly. “Do you… do you know of any other tales?”

Mistress Y/n glanced back at him and smiled. “I know many.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you hadn't guessed, Tony is the Iron King and the Iron Kingdom is his... well, kingdom. I'm not sure which Kingdom the Reader should be Queen of. Any suggestions would be helpful. I was thinking the sea kingdom, perhaps. Maybe the forest, I have yet to decide.


	2. The Unbreaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Which stories have I already told you?”
> 
> “Um, well, there was the creation of horses and then there was the magpie.”
> 
> Mistress nodded. “Did I tell you about the man who painted the sky?”
> 
> Steve’s interest was piqued. “A man painted the sky?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also a panic attack but it's not graphic and Stevie just kind of floats for a while

They rode on horseback for just under three hours, the sun climbing higher and higher in the sky, and Mistress finally called them to stop for a break. They settled in a small clearing by a small stream and let the horses pasture while they set up camp.

Mistress Y/n and her bodyguard, Natasha, immediately started bustling around doing jobs and that made Steve both surprised and at a loss of what to do. Any other Master would’ve ordered Natasha and Steve to take the brunt of the work, but instead Mistress as many jobs as Natasha. He had been trained from a young age in the arts of pleasure despite his physique. According to his handlers, his appearance was too exotic to be wasted on manual labour.

“Mistress?” Steve said hesitantly. Mistress hummed to show she was listening as she set about lighting a small fire. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You could collect some firewood?” She offered. “Fallen sticks are best – they burn more easily.”

Steve nodded, relieved at the task he was given and wandered off to complete his task, picking up sticks and logs as he went.

He dropped his pile after tripping over a tree root and scrambled to pick them up. Steve had no idea how harshly Mistress would punish him for taking too long or not coming back with enough wood. In all his haste, he let his guard down and didn’t realise something was approaching until it was too late. Steve froze as something rustled the leaves on the ground and he glanced behind him for any sight of the mystery creature. He saw nothing, so he turned back and stifled a scream.

Steve’s eyes widened at the sight of a snake whose body was as thick as Steve’s head, its emerald scales glittering in the sunlight. The snake looked as surprised as Steve was, if not somewhat amused. The serpent slithered closer and Steve, no matter how much he willed his feet to take him backwards, remained frozen.

“LOKI YOU UNCULTURED SWINE! STOP SCARING THE POOR MAN!” Mistress Y/n approached, hands on her hips and eyes glittering dangerously. She looked furious and she planted herself between Steve and the snake, batting the snake away with an idle hand.

The snake simply hissed, as if it were laughing, and its body started twisting and turning. In the snake’s place was a man with long dark hair, a smirk on his face and green-gold armour cladding his body. His smile widened as he bowed deeply. “My apologies, your highness. I was simply curious. It’s not every day you see a man as beautiful as he.”

Mistress continued to glower at the shapeshifter, unaffected by the shapeshifter’s silver tongue. “Where’s your brother, Loki?”

The shapeshifter, Loki, rolled his eyes. “My brother is currently having a drinking contest with Stark.”

“It’s not even one in the afternoon!” Mistress shook her head and turned back to Steve. “I’m sorry about Loki’s lack of social etiquette. Why don’t you head back to the camp with Natasha?”

The redhead had appeared out of nowhere and gently escorted Steve back to the camp.

“Aren’t shapeshifters evil?” Steve frowned, setting down his wood by the fire.

Natasha smiled wryly. “Loki may be a menace, but he’s not evil. He’s also a prince.” Her lip curled. “Shapeshifting is a branch of magic and it is one that Loki specialises in.”

“He is a prince?” Steve balked at the idea.

“Of both the Sky Kingdom and one of the biggest Southern tribes.” Natasha shrugged. “King Odin found Loki as a baby and the rest is history.” She was rummaging in her bag and eventually found what she was looking for. “Hungry?” Natasha held it out to him.

“What is it?” Steve asked, gingerly taking the food. It looked like more than he had ever been allowed to eat in a week. It was a strangely shaped bread with more food in the middle.

“Just try it.” Natasha assured.

Steve took a small bite and gave an embarrassingly loud moan. It was filled to the brim with exotic flavours and textures.

Mistress returned a moment later with Loki in tow and Steve was suddenly filled with panic and nausea. Mistress hadn’t told him he could eat anything, much less accept food from anyone but her. Steve didn’t realise he was locked in a panic until Mistress’ face swam into view, his vision slowly becoming clearer.

“Can you stand?” Mistress asked calmly. Steve screwed his eyes up and nodded. If his Mistress wanted him to stand, he would. “Do you want to stand?” She amended. “You can tell me the truth.” After more gentle coaxing, Steve eventually shook his head and braced himself for the punishment.

Instead of a punch or a slap, there were only gentle, encouraging touches. Slowly, Steve was brought back to himself feeling drained of energy.

“What happened?” Mistress asked. Steve had no idea whether the question was directed at him or Natasha but thankfully, the latter answered for him.

“He took a bite of his lunch, you came back and then he stopped breathing.” The redhead said. “It should be noted that slaves are often trained to only eat what their Masters give them. I should’ve been more careful.”

Mistress squeezed his shoulder gently. “It is no one’s fault. I daresay this is just a bad memory. We’ll know for next time, won’t we? Now, Steve, are you still hungry?”

Steve felt like he was going to be sick but kept it under control. Still, he shook his head and to his relief, Mistress didn’t seem to be offended.

 

Pepper, Queen of the Iron Kingdom, had reluctantly allowed herself to let her hair down and enjoy the gathering. King Thor was currently drinking her husband under the table, Pepper was enjoying a nice conversation with Maria when the door opened and Prince Loki came strutting in like a peacock.

“Do I dare ask what you were doing?” Pepper inquired as Loki approached giving a low bow.

“My dear Queen, you do not trust me?” Pepper raised an eyebrow. “I was scouting around and I stumbled across some travelers.” Loki explained. “They will be here by nightfall.”

“Y/n?” Pepper guessed.

Loki frowned. “How did you know?”

“You’re always happier after spending time with her.” The Queen pointed out. “Any news?”

“She claims the Hydra King tried to barter a slave for her allegiance.” Loki snorted.

Pepper loathed the Hydra Kingdom after what they did to Tony and his family so she had to admit she was pleased at their blunder. Y/n, as far as anyone who knew her could tell, was not an especially sexual orientated creature. Y/n had been ruling her people for ten years and most Queens before her had already taken at least three consorts.

She nodded. “Thank you, Loki. I will speak to Tony.” They glanced over to where Tony was carrying Bruce bridal style while singing with the skill of a goose. “Once he is of a clearer mind.” Pepper added.

Loki smiled, gave one last bow, and headed over to his brother.

Maria cleared her throat. “He has changed, hasn’t he?”

“He has indeed.”

 

“Mistress?” Steve gently prodded Mistress’ shoulder and she opened her eyes looking groggy. She’d fallen asleep an hour back and Steve had to take the reins. Natasha had given him the basics, but he was still nervous at handling a horse. He was sure the horse could smell his fear.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Mistress said stubbornly, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “Are you alright?” She asked, taking the reins back from Steve. He immediately felt a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders.

“Yes, I just… I just didn’t want you to have a sore neck.” Steve said quietly. He had had to pluck up quite a lot of courage to wake his Mistress. His previous Handlers hadn’t taken too kindly when he woke them up any way other than with his mouth or hands on certain areas of the body.

“That’s sweet of you.” Mistress hummed. “You must be bored out of your skin.” Steve felt himself blush and he looked over to Natasha who was smirking at him. “Which stories have I already told you?”

“Um, well, there was the creation of horses and then there was the magpie.”

Mistress nodded. “Did I tell you about the man who painted the sky?”

Steve’s interest was piqued. “A man painted the sky?”

Mistress chuckled. “A king, a greedy king, wanted to have the greatest masterpiece in the world and asked a brilliant artist to do it for him. The king wanted to be surprised, and so the artist set to work with paints made from charcoal and chalk, creating the sky that appears with the moon. The artist thought it was too dark and dull, so he painted the moon to brighten it up. But even then, he thought it was too blank so he added the stars in all kinds of shapes and sizes. When the King woke up, he saw the painted sky and claimed it wasn’t good enough.”

“But the night sky is beautiful!” Steve protested. He’d once gotten in trouble for sneaking out and admiring the stars.

“It is, very much so, but the King didn’t think so. So the artist set to work again. He made either end lighter with even more extravagant, expensive paints. Reds, yellows, oranges, purples of all kinds. Still, the King was dissatisfied with the artist’s work, arguing that it could give no life. Frustrated, the artist painted the rest of his canvas a pure blue as he had no spare paints left. The King saw it, and can you guess what he thought?”

“He didn’t like it?”

“He loved it. That’s why we only see blue during the day because it was favoured by the king so much.” Mistress said.

“He has poor tastes.”

“Yes he does.” Mistress laughed. “The King loved the blue sky and when the artist demanded payment for all his hard work, the King refused because he was so greedy. The artist, unknown to the King, was actually the god of the arts. Bad things happen to those who anger gods, and the King suffered a poor fate. The god was so infuriated by the King’s greed that he flung him into the night’s sky with such force, that his body always appears to be backwards and at an awkward angle. There are many variants of the story; some say the King was in fact a Queen, but it changed with each telling.”

“Y/n?” Natasha said, her horse coming to an abrupt halt. “We’re here.”

“Where are we?” Steve asked.

Mistress leaned to the side so Steve could see properly. Before them, down in the valley, was a kingdom filled with mechanical things roaming around, the houses made of iron and brick. A tall wall encircled the city and looked to be impenetrable. It had a rustic beauty to it that Steve could appreciate.

“Welcome to the Iron Kingdom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more time to decide which Kingdom you should rule and i'd appreciate suggestions :-)
> 
> And, in case you were wondering, what Steve was eating was a wrap.


	3. Where You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You draw?” Steve couldn’t help but ask.
> 
> Mistress shrugged. “When I can. My skill doesn’t even compare to some of the artists and builders from back home.”
> 
> “May I see?” Steve asked tentatively. Mistress held up what she was sketching and Steve couldn’t help but be impressed. It was hard to get shading with charcoal right, but Mistress had managed it so the man in the picture looked life-like. “This is amazing, Mistress. Who is it?”
> 
> “James, or Bucky, as he likes to be called.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a nightmare, lashes out in real life, not especially graphic  
> also a very very very minor character death nothing serious

Steve nearly broke his neck from craning his head around to take in all the Iron Kingdom had to offer during the short horse ride through the city until they reached the palace. It’s a tall building, relatively phallic in shape and had slightly smaller buildings connected to it.

In the courtyard, Mistress slid off the horse’s back and helped Steve down so he didn’t fall on his face like the last time he dismounted. She kept one hand on the horse’s reins and one hand on Steve’s back. “You feel alright?” She asked softly and Steve nodded.

An adolescent boy came over to them. A stable boy, Steve assumed. “Queen Y/n, may I take your-“

The doors burst open and a man with dark hair, red and gold robes and a flagon of drink in one hand, swaggered towards them. A gold crown was perched on his head, tilted at an angle. “Y/N! My favourite friend!” He declared, slurring on his words slightly.

“Hello Tony.” Mistress didn’t seem especially impressed with him.

“Woah.” The Iron King’s eyes fell on Steve. “He’s a looker, Y/n. Where’d you find him?”

“I think that is a story for when you’re not drunk, Tony.” A woman with strawberry blonde hair, red and gold robes and a crown, emerged from the palace, gently tugging the Iron King back. “We’ll get Y/n settled.”

“But I want one.” Tony whined, pouting at the Iron Queen. She rolled her eyes and dragged him back into the palace.

Mistress shook her head in exasperation. “Sorry about that, Steve. He can be a bit much.”

“It’s no problem, Mistress.” Steve said quietly. Mistress didn’t look very happy at the word ‘Mistress’, but it was a strongly ingrained habit that Steve wouldn’t be able to break very easily.

“Queen Y/n, would you like me to take your horses to the stable and get them settled?” The boy asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yes, please.” Mistress smiled easily, handing the reins to him. Steve could help but be surprised that she used ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to those of a lower status than her. “What’s your name, kid?” She asked.

“Peter, my Queen.” The boy bowed, almost brimming with excitement.

“Hm. Don’t tell Tony.” Mistress handed Peter a few gold coins and the boy’s eyes widened to the size of said coins.

“Thank you, my Queen.” Peter beamed and took the horses off to the stables.

Mistress turned back to Steve. “I’m sure you’re tired. How about we get you a bath and then a bed?”

Steve tensed but nodded. The last time he’d been offered a bath, he’d had all his hair from the neck down burned off by some herbs in the water. The hair still hadn’t grown back after five years and Steve didn’t exactly hold out any hopes.

Mistress led him through the halls of the palace, briefly waving to some people that they passed in the corridor. Mistress navigated the maze like she knew it off by heart and eventually, they made it to a large wing decorated tastefully. She moved into a room and a moment later, Steve heard running water. He stepped up to the doorway and peered in, jaw dropping at the lavishness of it all.

“Will you be alright on your own, or do you want me to stay?” Mistress asked, adding various oils and herbs to the water as the bath filled up.

Steve’s brow furrowed. Why was he being given such a choice? Normally, his handler either threw him a sponge and a bucket of ice cold water and told him to get to it or he was scrubbed down forcefully by unsympathetic hands. He had no idea which Mistress expected him to say. Would he be taking up her time by asking her to stay? Would he be scorning his Mistress by being independent?

“Stay, Mistress?” He asked tentatively.

Mistress smiled reassuringly and turned the water off, satisfied it was at the right level and temperature. “It might be a bit hot.” She warned, continuing to mix more oils into the water.

Steve nodded and started removing his clothes. “Where should I put my clothes?”

“On the side is fine.” Mistress gestured vaguely behind her to the cabinets by the window. Steve crossed the room and placed his clothes neatly folded there. He waited nervously for Mistress to give him an order to start pleasuring her or help her undress and attend to her in the bath.

She did none of these things. Instead, Mistress stood and shook off her hand before turning to him. She didn’t seem very bothered by his nudity and stepped away from the bath. “You can get in.” She offered.

Steve stepped in, groaning from how the hot water released the built up tension in his aching muscles. He lowered himself further into the water and leaned back, unable to stop himself from practically purring at how nice the water felt. The oils and herbs Mistress put in the water didn’t burn or bite at his skin, instead soothing his joints and muscles.

“You look very happy.” Mistress said, smiling at him from where she was sat on the windowsill. In her hands was a wad of paper and a piece of charcoal, sketching something that Steve couldn’t see.

“You draw?” Steve couldn’t help but ask.

Mistress shrugged. “When I can. My skill doesn’t even compare to some of the artists and builders from back home.”

“May I see?” Steve asked tentatively. Mistress held up what she was sketching and Steve couldn’t help but be impressed. It was hard to get shading with charcoal right, but Mistress had managed it so the man in the picture looked life-like. “This is amazing, Mistress. Who is it?”

“James, or Bucky, as he likes to be called.” Mistress said, fondness lacing her tone. “The name Bucky being a result of his sister’s inability at five to pronounce Buchanan.”

“He’s very handsome.” Steve admitted and he couldn’t help but notice how certain parts of him twitched with interest.

“Yes, I’d say so.”

“Is he your husband, Mistress?” Steve flinched as soon as he asked the question, expecting a slap or reprimand. Instead, Mistress just laughed.

“No, no he’s not.” She chuckled. “He’s soon to become my consort, though.”

Steve felt something twist inside him. _Consort_? “How is a consort different to a husband, Mistress?”

Mistress considered this. “Well, where I’m from, we don’t have husbands or wives. We have consorts, equal in status regardless of gender.”

“But you’re the Queen.” Steve frowned.

“Ah, I see what you mean. Equal in status of the home. No, my consort wouldn’t be the same as a king.” Mistress went back to sketching. Something new, this time as the sketch of Mistress’ soon-to-be consort lay by Steve’s clothes.

Steve dozed off to the smell of scented oils and the sound of charcoal scratching on paper.

 

_“Wake up, Steven.” His mother’s fingers carded through his hair and Steve, half asleep, purred from the action and snuggled deeper into the bed. “It’s time for school.” She reminded him._

_“Five more minutes, ma.” Steve whined, rolling over._

_“Now now, Steven, how can you ever expect to pick up my trade in the future if you neglect your scholarly duties?” Steve’s father teased, sitting down on the other side of Steve and tickling his side causing him to squirm._

_“Ugh, fine.” Steve sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Do we have any food?”_

_His father barked a laugh. “I swear food burns away the moment you swallow it.” He ruffled Steve’s hair._

_“’M a growin’ boy.” Steve mumbled, blinking the sleep out of his eyes._

_“That you are.” His mother pressed a kiss to his forehead. “But that doesn’t stop you from getting into fights, does it?”_

_There was a knock at the door and Steve’s father stood and went to the door to answer it. Steve’s mother pulled her close to him as his father started arguing with whoever was outside. His eyes went wide as his father was suddenly run through with a sword. Someone was screaming and Steve didn’t know whether it was him or his mother._

_Rough hands grabbed him._

_His mother was sobbing, pleading._

_Steve was thrashing and kicking, screaming for his parents._

_The man taking Steve away were cursing and spitting at them._

_Steve lashed out violently as someone clasped his shoulder gently and his eyes popped open-_

-and Mistress was on the floor, a bruise forming on her cheek. Steve’s stomach lurched. Oh gods, he hurt his Mistress and the punishment would be excruciating.

Steve crawled out of the now tepid water, begging and sobbing for mercy and apologising for what he’d done, an endless stream of apologies and pleas falling from his mouth.

In his head, a loop of thoughts were circulating with no end in sight. _IhurtmyMistressshe’sgoingtopunishmeohgodsIdidn’tmeanit IhurtmyMistressshe’sgoingtopunishmeohgodsIdidn’tmeanit IhurtmyMistressshe’sgoingtopunishmeohgodsIdidn’tmeanit IhurtmyMistressshe’sgoingtopunishmeohgodsIdidn’tmeanit-_

A hand was stroking down his back, soothing and reassuring. Arms were wrapped around him, holding him securely. Someone was crooning softly to him, bringing him back from whatever abyss Steve had ventured too far towards.

“Mistress?” Steve croaked out eventually.

“Welcome back.” She said kindly. “Don’t worry, you didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did.” He protested. “You’ve got a bruise.”

Mistress pulled back. “No I don’t, see?” She gestured to her face and through tear-filled eyes, Steve could see that her face was as beautiful it always was. “It’s alright, Steve. I’m not going to punish you, it’s not your fault you had a nightmare.”

Steve started sobbing again and buried his face in her neck, holding her tightly. Mistress hugged back just as tightly, whispering reassurances and promises in his ear.

Eventually, Mistress gently tapped his shoulder. “Do you think you can stand? I’d like to get you to bed so you can rest.” Steve tried to stand a few times, but his knees kept buckling underneath him. “It’s alright.” She promised and hoisted him up into her arms.

Steve was tall, with broad shoulders and a considerable amount of muscle for a pleasure slave. He was not very light, but Mistress picked him up like he weighed nothing more than a small child. Steve couldn’t help the arousal that curled in his belly and hoped that Mistress wasn’t aware of his erection that was slowly growing as she carried him from the bathroom and into a bedroom.

Mistress set him down on the bed, tucking him under the covers. “Would you like me to stay until you fall asleep?” She asked. Steve nodded. Mistress crawled under the covers and settled next to him, his head rested against her chest. “Did you know the Earth Mother had twelve children?”

“No, Mistress, I didn’t.”

She hummed. “The Earth Mother had twelve children with the Sky Mother. They were all shapes and sizes. One had a hundred hands and a hundred faces, another had the body of a lion, the head of a goat protruding from its back and a snake for a tail.”

“That sounds like a fearsome creature.” Steve mused, closing his eyes and listening to his Mistress’ heartbeat.

“It is. But the most fearsome of all was the dragon, the most powerful. She made her home in the depths of the Earth, where liquid rock shifts to replenish the Earth. Dragon in turn had three children. One the form of a fiery bird that could rise from the ashes, even more powerful than before. Another was made of rock and magma whose only appetite was for gold. The last took the form of a dragon with no wings but had fire running through its veins. The humans grew fearful of Dragon and her fearsome brood over time, so they employed the help of the sea tribes to get rid of them.”

“Were they hurting anyone?” Steve asked sleepily.

“No, they weren’t. Overall, they were peaceful. Dragon captured the Queen of the Sea tribes and over time, they fell in love. The Queen eventually returned home and the only reminder she had of her love was the child she carried inside of her.” Mistress said. She was about to continue, but Steve was already lost in the clutches of sleep. She kissed his forehead and slipped quietly out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to give suggestions for this fic or any different ones (i.e asks) and for what kingdom you should be queen of; so far the winning (singular)vote is for the Sea Kingdom  
> Comments and constructive criticism fuels my motivation :-)


	4. I'd Fight For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Grace!” Peter skidded to a halt in front of her. “Have you just come from the King and Queen’s meeting?”
> 
> “Yes, but-“
> 
> “Which meeting room are they in?”
> 
> “The one on the tenth floor. But why-“
> 
> “Thanks Grace, I owe you one!” Peter called back and kept running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure how to tag this; Steve has a breakdown that's described pretty clearly. There's some self harm that he doesn't realise he's doing as well as some vomit and suicide is mentioned but doesn't actually happen (If any of this bothers you, go to the second part of the chapter)

Steve arose slowly out of the warm embrace of sleep, stretching under the covers before sitting up and taking in his surroundings. It was still dark outside and his body clock told him that the sun would be rising soon. He slid out of bed and went to the bathroom to prepare himself. Steve wondered what state of dress Mistress would want him in, if any. His training told him to always be up before the sun and be prepared for whatever his Master/Mistress wanted in the morning. He slipped on the clothes set by the bed and found that they fit perfectly. They were made of rather fine fabric and Steve’s stomach rolled at the thought of ruining such a precious gift.

On quiet feet, Steve left the bedroom and looked nervously around the wing. The only other bedroom was off to his right and the door was slightly ajar. He could see light coming from the room and panic started pumping through his veins. Was he supposed to be up earlier? Mistress hadn’t said anything; perhaps she expected it of him? Steve tried to navigate the open wing as quietly as he could, but accidentally stubbed his toe on a table. Steve hoped the unmanly squeak that came out of his mouth wasn’t enough to wake his Mistress.

He pushed the door open as carefully as he could, peering around the door once it was open enough. The bedroom was a similar layout to his; a four-poster bed in the middle, a fireplace opposite the foot of the bed, a wardrobe by the window and a desk by the fire. The only thing missing was his Mistress. Steve stepped further into the room, anxiety boiling up inside of him.

The fire was slowly dying but Steve could see the room hadn’t been used very much. The sheets on the bed were rumpled and the desk chair pulled back, but no person items anywhere. What if… What if his Mistress left him here? Left him to go back to her consort-to-be back with her own people? He didn’t even know what he was without a Mistress or a Master to serve! If she was gone, where did that leave him?

Steve felt the hot tears in his eyes as he left the room and went to the main door to the stairs. He tugged on the handle, jiggled it about, but it was firmly locked shut. His knees stung when they fell to the stone floor, taking him with them. He barely registered the splinters in his fingers from scrabbling at the door in desperation until it saw, through clouded eyes, the streaks of red in the grain of the door. Chips of crimson wood littered its lap and the area around him. Ignoring the pain, working through it, using it to fuel its desperation.

It couldn’t go back to Hydra, it wouldn’t, it refused to, it didn’t want a new Master or Mistress. It didn’t want to become something to be used and discarded after it was no longer a shiny new toy. It didn’t want to spend the rest of its life on its knees or on all fours. It didn’t want to spend the rest of its life at the feet of large men with even larger egos. It didn’t want to spend the rest of its life as a mild form of entertainment.

It became harder and harder to swallow the pain, to ignore the sensations and the voices telling it to stop its ministrations on the door. A sensation of nausea and disorientation washed over it and it screwed up its eyes, face twisting into a grimace as it pressed its forehead against the door. The endless string of words that fell out of its mouth seemed to be replaced by what the voices in its head were telling him.

“…pleasepleasepleaseMistresspleasecomebacki’msorryi’msorryi’mnotgoodenoughnotgoodenoughuselessuselessselfishselfishselfishscumobjectuselessselfishnotgoodenough…”

Everything hurt. Its head hurt, its chest hurt, its feet hurt. Cold shivers shot through its body and its body was trembling. Gods, it wanted it to stop. Wanted the voices to stop. It wanted to be back in its Mistress’ arms but that was never going to happen because it wasn’t good enough and she left it there without a word, without any warning. Bile rose up in its throat and trickled down its chin and chest, coming in uneven waves.

Once it was done, it wiped at its mouth, hand shaking. It couldn’t stand, so it dragged itself into the bathroom and crawled into the bath. The water from its bath was still there and it pulled its body into its cold embrace.

 

Peter was jogging to the stables to get Queen Y/n’s horses ready for their departure when he noticed a few guards sniggering and speaking to each other in hushed tones.

“…pathetic, scratching at the door like a lost puppy.”

“How does Queen Y/n put up with him?”

“No idea, maybe he’ll drown himself so she’ll be rid of him.”

“Yeah, I’d like a turn first though. Never seen a body quite like that.”

“You’d shag anything if it stood still long enough.

“Why you-“

Peter pursed his lips and turned around so he was heading in the direction of the entrance of the castle. The guards there waved him in, used to seeing little Peter running around doing chores for extra money. He dashed to Queen Y/n’s wing and tried to open the door, twisting the handle as hard as he could, but it wouldn’t budge. Peter noticed something pooling underneath the door. The braziers didn’t provide much light, but even Peter could see that it was dark red.

There were many meeting rooms, all dotted around the castle, so Peter had no idea which one to go to. The Kings and Queens weren’t in any of the ones on the East side of the castle and Peter was starting to despair until he noticed a maid walking with a trap holding an empty pot of coffee.

“Grace!” Peter skidded to a halt in front of her. “Have you just come from the King and Queen’s meeting?”

“Yes, but-“

“Which meeting room are they in?”

“The one on the tenth floor. But why-“

“Thanks Grace, I owe you one!” Peter called back and kept running.

He reached the tenth floor in record time and collapsed against the meeting room door, not bothering with knocking even though he’d probably be punished for it later. The Iron Monarchs, the Sky King and prince and Queen Y/n were all sat around a map table with similar expressions of frustration.

“I can’t believe you pulled me out of bed so early for this, Tony…” Queen Y/n shook her head.

“Queen Y/n!” Peter gasped, coughing and trying to catch his breath. “Queen Y/n! Please-Please come quick!”

Queen Y/n rose out of her seat, her fellow monarchs mimicking the action. “Peter, are you alright? Take your time, Peter. Catch your breath.”

“Guards-they-they-they locked-locked him in-he can’t leave-there’s blood-“ Peter choked out. “I tried to open the door but it’s too tightly shut!”

Peter always liked Queen Y/n’s visits; she was nice and funny and kind, especially to animals which made Peter happy, but he’d never thought to be scared of Queen Y/n. As Queen Y/n’s eyes flashed dangerously, Peter felt himself draw back slightly in fear.

Queen Y/n sprinted at a pace that only King Thor could keep up with without nearly dying from exertion. They reached the door to her wing and she smacked it so hard, the door was pulled off its hinges and fell forward in one piece. Queen Y/n immediately went to the bedroom, looking for the man she’d come with, while Peter went to the bathroom to be sick.

“Queen Y/n! I’ve found him!” Peter called, never taking his eyes off the man in the cold bathwater. He had tanned skin, but his lips were blue.

Peter stepped aside as Queen Y/n lifted the man out of the bath and set him down on a long chair by the fire. She turned to the fireplace and did something that Peter couldn’t see and the dying embers burst into life. The man moaned, drawing Queen Y/n’s attention back to him.

“Peter.” King Tony tugged on his arm, pulling him away from the scene. “Who were the guards that locked him in?” Peter shuffled his feet. He was just a stable boy, almost nothing compared to the guards.

“Peter, don’t worry.” Queen Pepper assured. “We won’t let them hurt you.”

“Andrew and Jon.” Peter blurted.

King Tony sneered at the names. “I don’t know why I ever hired them.” He turned on his heel and strode out. “HAPPY? I WANT TO FIRE SOME ASSHOLE GUARDS!”

Queen Pepper seemed to be content with her husband’s course of action, which in itself was a rare occasion, and patted Peter’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling us, Peter.”

“They melted the hinges.” Prince Loki said from where he was crouched by the fallen door. “That’s why you couldn’t open it. Only someone with considerable strength could.”

“What could’ve melted the metal?” Thor frowned.

“I don’t know, I’d need to look closer.” Loki stood up as Thor stooped and picked up the thick door. He tucked it under his armpit and trotted out of the room after his brother.

“Will he be okay?” Peter asked, glancing back at Queen Y/n. Queen Y/n had removed the wet clothes and covered him with a blanket. She was petting through the man’s hair, crooning softly and trying to bring him back from wherever he’d retreated to.

“I think so. Why don’t you go get some breakfast for when he wakes up?” Queen Pepper suggested. Peter nodded and walked with Queen Pepper out of the wing.

 

Tony couldn’t help but feel guilty.

The poor slave, Steve, had been innocent in all of this. That didn’t stop Tony’s guards from terrorizing the poor man. He knew how delicately people had to be treated if they’d been abused and hurt and if you were actually going to be nice to them. A sudden change in treatment could be catastrophic.

Both Tony and Y/n knew what could happen, but he’d still demanded they have a meeting before Y/n and her people left at first light. He’d pulled her away from where she was needed most. Tony knew Y/n would simply brush off his apologies, say it was just a mistake, but Tony wouldn’t just let this all go unpunished.

He took great pleasure in seeing the two guards who had caused all of this to be dragged in by Happy and Maria. One of them had a broken leg and the other had a mangled nose.

“So, you thought that you could… what? Terrorize an innocent man?” Tony scowled down at the men. Well, they were hardly men. Tony doubted they even had any chest hair.

“My king… please we just-“

“Just what?”

“Just… we didn’t think it’d do any harm.” He protested weakly.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “First of all you damage my property by melting the hinges of a door, then you disrupt an innocent man’s fragile mental state? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“He’s just a slave!” The other boy protested. “Just a thing to be used! What does it matter? We were just trying to have some fun!”

The Iron King breathed out slowly through his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned dark really quickly ಠ_ಠ
> 
> Comments/kudos/constructive criticism appreciated  
> Please point out any mistakes, I haven't edited this because ugh, editing


	5. We Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How is he?” Natasha asked, perching on the table.
> 
> “He’ll be alright.”
> 
> “And how are you?”
> 
> Y/n shot Natasha a look. “How do you think?”

It was not in Natasha’s nature to let her emotions run away with her, which is why she was so angry at both herself and the incompetent fools who thought it funny to play a prank on such a fragile man. Natasha had wanted to guard the wing, but Y/n had waved her off and told her to go have dinner and enjoy the party. Y/n wasn’t a party animal, so Natasha knew she’d opt for staying in her wing until morning.

Natasha rapped her knuckles gently on the door frame of Y/n’s wing, rather hesitant to interrupt the scene before her. Steve was sleeping fitfully, his head in Y/n’s lap. She was keeping the nightmares plaguing his mind at bay by carding her fingers through his hair. Y/n waved her in, leaning her head back against the chair.

“How is he?” Natasha asked, perching on the table.

“He’ll be alright.”

“And how are you?”

Y/n shot Natasha a _look_. “How do you think?”

“Come now, Y/n, we both know you couldn’t have predicted what had happened.” Natasha gestured to Steve.

“This is all on me, Natasha.” Y/n snapped. “I made the judgment to send you off to enjoy the party when I should’ve just trusted your instincts to stay and guard the wing.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “As a wise Queen once said; there’s no sense in dwelling on what could’ve been.”

Y/n scowled. “Stop using my own words against me.”

The redhead chuckled. “That will only happen when you stop being so wise.”

Steve drew their attention as he whimpered and moaned, tossing his head from side to side and calling out for someone. Y/n’s scowl melted into one of concern and she began cooing softly to him, using soft touches and words to coax him back to a more peaceful place.

“What was he saying?” Natasha asked.

Y/n’s brow furrowed. “He was saying ‘ _Wailena_ ’. It’s Old Lastruan.”

“That makes sense. He said he was from the Fire Isles.” Natasha hummed. Languages had never been her strong point, but Natasha was well aware that Y/n knew over thirty. “What does it mean?”

“It means ‘Mistress’.”

“Um, Queen Y/n?” An adolescent boy stood in the doorway, a tray laden with food and drink in his hands. “I’ve brought some breakfast in case any of you are hungry.”

“Thank you, Peter.” Y/n smiled gratefully. Natasha moved onto a proper seat so that there would be enough room on the table for the tray. “What’s your daily wage, by the way?”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Uh… Five silvers?”

Y/n nodded thoughtfully. “Tell Tony to raise his wage to five gold a day.”

“F-forgive me, Queen Y/n, but I can’t tell my King what to do!”

“Maybe not. But I can.” She smiled. “Pass me some paper, please?”

Natasha handed over some scraps of paper and a stick of charcoal. Y/n began writing, using Steve’s shoulder as a hard surface because she couldn’t use the table. Natasha peered over Y/n’s shoulder and barked a laugh.

_Tony, raise Peter’s wage to at least five gold or else I will tell everyone about the time when we were eight and you figured out why some men use the toilet sitting down and decided to tell your father in front of his entire council that the reason your father sat down while using the toilet was because his ‘willy’ was too short._

_Love, Y/n._

Y/n folded the paper and then held out the letter to Peter who took it. “Don’t peek, remember.” She warned but gave a wink anyway. “Don’t look so terrified, Peter.”

The boy nodded and scurried out of the wing, tripping over his feet as he did so. Natasha watched him leave, mildly endeared to the boy. “Did Tony really tell Howard that?”

“Yep.” Y/n popped the ‘p’.

“Why?”

“Because I dared him to.”

 

Steve didn’t especially want to wake up, but the gentle touches and soothing words gradually coaxed him to rise to the upper layers of sleep. His eyelids forced themselves open, even though the rest of his body was still being weighed down by fatigue. Mistress’ y/e/c eyes peered down at him, concern etched into her face.

“Steve?”

He managed to grunt in response but the prospect of anything else just seemed to use up too much energy.

“It’s alright, Steve. Don’t try to move or speak until you feel ready, okay?”

Steve realised the fingers carding through his hair belonged to his Mistress and a soft rumble began in his chest.

“We can stay here until you’re feeling better.”

He looked up into her eyes and couldn’t help but wonder how she was real. Steve hardly dared believe her existence for fear of an unpleasant turn of events.

Parts of Steve’s body slowly awoke, disobeying his brain. The first was his stomach. It began to convulse sporadically, the horrendous feeling distracting himself from Mistress who raised his upper body into a somewhat vertical position. A pot was thrust before him and his stomach released the last dregs of bile within it.

“Are you done?” That wasn’t his Mistress. That was Natasha. Steve supposed she was the one holding the pot. He retched over the container a few times before Steve was certain his stomach would behave. Steve nodded and the ceramic pot was taken away. Mistress wiped at his mouth with a damp cloth.

“’M sorry, Mistress.” Steve mumbled, swallowing thickly. “I’m ready for whatever punishment you want to give me.”

“You’re not going to be punished.”

Steve was fairly certain Mistress meant this to be reassuring, but it only made his heart beat faster. Had he been so bad that his Mistress wasn’t even going to take the time to punish him and correct his behaviour? He pulled himself out of his Mistress’ grip and let his knees guide him to the floor by her feet. “Please? Fix me, please! I-I need correction, I need to be punished!”

His begging made Mistress’ brow furrow. “Steve, what happened wasn’t your fault. Why would I punish you for something that wasn’t your fault?” Mistress took the hands that were grasping at her armour in desperation. “You are not broken, Steve.” From the way her eyes pierced his very soul, he could tell she really believed that.

He shook his head. “But I was bad.”

“You acted the same as anyone in your position would’ve done.” Mistress brushed away the hair hanging over his eyes but it simply fell back into place. “You handled it better than most would, if you ask me.”

“But I was bad.” Steve insisted, shrinking away.

“You were human.” Mistress corrected. “You are human.”

Steve had lost track of how many times his handlers had tried to beat his training into him before Steve had finally bent to their will. It was better than the alternative, he had to remind himself. Steve had seen slaves who refused and so they were broken, little better than some of the toys Steve had to practice with for how much emotion they showed.

He was told, repeatedly, that he was a slave and slaves weren’t people. They didn’t deserve things that normal people did. Steve eventually accepted that and was certain that his future Master/Mistress would treat him as such.

“You’re allowed to ask for things, Steve. The worst that can happen is that I’ll say no. You’re allowed to make your own choices.” Mistress seemed to sense his unease. “A little bit at a time, I think. We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Alright.” Steve’s voice was unusually hoarse.

“Are you hungry?”

Steve nodded, daring to glance at her. She gave him a smile and reached for a tray on the table.

“Are you allergic to anything?”

As a child, Steve remembered reacting badly to milk but he grew out of it quickly once he started going outside more. “I don’t think so.”

The most extravagant food Steve ever had was early on in his training and he had to learn to please people with various foods. One item in particular was a brown thick sauce and Steve thought it looked rather unappetizing but it tasted like heaven. Otherwise, his usual diet consisted of a bean… something or other with a slice of bread.

Mistress offered him fruit first. She handed him a yellow fruit that was rather phallic in shape. “Try it.” She urged.

Steve wasn’t exactly sure if there was a particular etiquette to eating the fruit, so he turned it on its side and took a bite out from the middle. He chewed thoughtfully. “It’s not bad.”

“Ah,” Mistress’ lips quirked. “It might be tastier if you take the skin off.” She demonstrated with her own piece of fruit. Steve copied her and found it was considerably better without the skin.

He found some berries he liked better than others, but he really loved the black red berries and couldn’t help but be disappointed when they were all eaten.

Mistress claimed she wasn’t very hungry, but that didn’t stop him from offering whatever he’d been given to her. When they moved on to the breads, she ate more than when they were on fruits.

Steve devoured the flaky bread with the brown sauce before claiming he was full. Natasha later informed him that the brown sauce was more commonly known as chocolate.

“I think it’s time I introduce you to my friends, hm?” Mistress brushed off her hands onto the tray. “Unless you feel you’re not ready?”

“I-I-will-I-yes.” He stuttered. “I would.”

“If you’re sure.” Mistress smiled, and it was like a weight lifted from his shoulders. “There are some clothes for you in the bedroom.”

Steve was suddenly very aware that he wasn’t actually wearing anything and he rose onto shaky feet but allowed them to carry him to the bedroom. On the bed were two sets of clothes. One was not dissimilar to what he’d seen other people in the Iron Kingdom wearing, the other was leather armour masquerading as clothes. The strips of leather were interwoven with light but sturdy metal.

Was this a test? Was there significance to which set of clothing he chose?

In the end, he slipped the armour on. It was definitely crafted for riding, comfort and protection, though not necessarily in that order.

Steve poked his head out of the bedroom and saw Mistress talking with Natasha in a language.

“Steve.”

He jumped and moved hurriedly out of the bedroom. “Mistress.” Steve greeted. He was worried that he’d taken too long, but Mistress was smiling so he could only assume she didn’t mind how long he took.

“Look at you, all handsome.” Natasha mused, raking her eyes up and down his body. “You suit armour.”

“Thank you?”

“Shall we?” Mistress interrupted. “If we leave the others alone too long, they’ll start a drinking contest.”

“That’s bad?”

“Because Thor drinks everyone under the table.” Mistress grumbled. “And then Tony starts singing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/kudos are appreciated :)
> 
> *This chapter would've been up earlier if it hadn't been for mocks, sorry! :(  
> **Bucky will appear next chapter (I think)  
> ***Lastuan is a language i made up coz i was bored


	6. It Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Men are fools to underestimate her.” Loki said. “They usually end up with their cities burning to the ground.”
> 
> “That only happened once.”
> 
> “I rest my case.”

Loki had always been rather flexible in both his gender and his preferences, so it was no surprise to him that he found himself longing to be one of Y/n’s consorts. Logically, he knew it would never work. For one, Y/n’s people held great resentment towards shapeshifters or skinwalkers. For another, Loki knew he’d fail miserably at the home duties that would be required of him.

Still, he couldn’t help himself from lighting up when Y/n entered the lounge with Natasha and the slave in tow. Looking at the dynamics of the three, one would think that they were bound in partnership already.

“Loki, I’m sure you remember Steve.” Y/n gestured between the two.

The slave, Steve, was wearing tribal armour and that only made him more delectable in Loki’s eyes. “How could I forget?”

Steve bowed his head, the standard meeting for slaves. Y/n shot Loki a warning look and guided Steve away to introduce him to Fury, Tony’s advisor.

“You know you don’t stand a chance, right?” Natasha said, keeping a close eye on the Queen and the Slave. “Her heart belongs to James.”

“I know.” Loki sighed. “I read the omens.”

“Why do you pine after her if you know nothing will come of it?”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be asking yourself the same question?” Natasha shot him a poisonous glare. “To answer your question, whenever our parents would have a meeting, Y/n always made sure to involve me in whatever games we played. She taught me how to master chess, how to wield a blade even though I focus on magic. She taught me how to speak the language of the father that abandoned me to the elements so that I wouldn’t forget my heritage.”

“She knows over thirty languages.” Natasha hummed. “There may be more. I stopped counting after thirty.”

“Men are fools to underestimate her.” Loki said. “They usually end up with their cities burning to the ground.”

“That only happened once.”

“I rest my case.”

 

Steve was in the presence of Kings and Queens. He was honestly surprised that he didn’t immediately allow his knees to pull both him and themselves to the floor in respect.

It was when they all migrated to the dining hall for lunch that the instincts carved into his soul finally took over. He let his body pull himself down to kneel by Mistress’ chair. She looked down at him with a strange expression on her face. “We can eat lunch up in the room, if you like.”

Steve shook his head. He didn’t want to be selfish and take her away from her friends. Mistress said something to her fellow Kings and Queens, slid off her own chair and sat down cross-legged next to him. The Kings and Queens all picked up their plates and sat down on the floor next to Steve and his Mistress. He couldn’t help but gape at them all, but the Iron King just winked at him.

“There are no slaves here.” The Sky Queen said kindly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, I apologise, and I broke my promise on Bucky showing up but i put this one in before Bucky shows up for the sake of character development.
> 
> Sky Queen - Jane Foster  
> Constructive criticism is welcome, as is kudos and other nice sayings :)


	7. A Time In This Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So… what’s to the North?”
> 
> Steve missed the glance Natasha sent Mistress who simply said, “The Ice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give you Bucky Barnes  
> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

“Before we get there,” Mistress calmed her horse to slow into a trot then a standstill before turning to him. “Do you have any questions?”

Steve blinked. He certainly had questions, too many to count, but he didn’t think he’d be allowed to ask any. Steve squirmed on his own horse, given to him by the Iron King himself. He wasn’t accustomed to so much horse riding and his back was paying for it. So many questions and Steve had no idea how many he was allowed to ask, so he settled on one that hopefully wouldn’t get him too much punishment. “Some people say you’re the Queen of the Sea Tribes, but others say you’re the Queen of the Forest Tribes.”

Mistress nodded, like it was a question she was frequently asked. “My grandmother’s first consort was a prince of the Forest Tribes. Their union, and the general circumstances, merged the two Kingdoms together.”

Steve frowned. “How would that work?”

“Our tribal culture has integrated with each other. Where we’re going to now, Irasmar, is where the tribal grounds overlap.” Mistress explained. “The seas, if you’re not accustomed to swimming or sailing them, can be deadly. The mountain pass to the South should not be taken lightly. The bears aren’t exactly picky.” Steve blanched. “And the forest to the East is temperamental at best.”

“So… what’s to the North?”

Steve missed the glance Natasha sent Mistress who simply said, “The Ice.”

Mistress led the ay down a beaten trail in the forest, barely turning a hair at the ominous sounds that made Steve flinch. He was certain that if he hadn’t been with his Mistress, something with too many legs or eyes would snatch him up as a snack.

“These braziers mark the border of the Forest Tribes.” Natasha said. “Don’t worry, they probably won’t shoot you.”

Steve had no idea whether she was joking or not and had no desire to find out. He thought he glimpsed someone in his peripheral but it vanished so quickly, Steve was sure he was just seeing things.

The path widened out enough for Mistress’ horse to fall into step with Steve’s. “We won’t be riding much longer.” Mistress assured. “Your back probably hurts, so you can rest when we get there.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Steve knew his Mistress didn’t especially like being called so, but she never acted adversely to it other than twisting her lips into a frown. Her hand shot out and Steve flinched violently but, instead of striking him, Mistress had snatched an arrow out of the air.

Natasha rolled her eyes and Mistress shook her head. “ _Saleres saj tas esertaj n’melsamas_?” Mistress called out. “ _Pa jere tasal falu eluses mas jestemou? Hul tasal falu eluses mas erul_?”

A man jumped down from a tree, finely-crafted bow in hand. “ _Kal, mouselute_.” He grinned at Mistress. Steve’s mouth went rather dry; the man had shoulder-length brown hair, tied back messily. His jawline was unshaven but even Steve could see how sharp it was, his hips slim but his physique lithe and strong. And his eyes were a striking grey, like storm clouds. He wore armour that protected everything important and somehow made him look even more like a God. “ _Saler_?” He nodded to Steve.

“Steve. _Hal saj ta tu jematu_.” Mistress said.

“ _Tu jematu_?” The man’s eyes raked over Steve’s body. “ _Lej hal jese ermatu irej_?”

Mistress rolled her eyes. “ _Maj almas maj ta irej._ ”

“ _Salas te hal alaste_?”

“ _Salas le falu estay_?”

The man’s handsome face twisted itself from somewhat curious and amused to cold and calculating. His body started to coil and tense. “ _Outas halir esasajesal_?”

“ _Tate eltatu hilal tal irutales alla tal lelalutires_.”

“ _J’lu eseresaj ta y’melta_.”

Mistress huffed and turned to Steve. “Steve, this is Bucky. I apologise for his rudeness but he isn’t so well versed in the Common Tongue.”

Steve bowed his head in greeting. The man, Bucky, ignored him and strode over to where Mistress sat on her horse. He climbed on behind her. Steve couldn’t stop his stomach churning when Bucky wrapped his arms tightly around Mistress, muttering something in her ear.

As they rode on, Natasha leaned over to him. “Don’t take it personally. James is a grump towards anyone not from the Tribes.”

“Do many of the tribesmen speak the Common Tongue?”

“Very few, actually.” The redhead grimaced. “James’ knowledge of the Common Tongue is basic at best. I think the most complicated thing he said to me once was, ‘I chair the flower’.”

“How does Mistress know the Common Tongue so well?” If Mistress hadn’t been outright pronounced as one of the tribesmen, Steve would’ve thought she was from one of the other Kingdoms where the Common Tongue was learnt alongside your mother tongue.

“She’s always had a gift for languages. Y/n teaches some of the children who want to learn, but otherwise she doesn’t insist on us all learning.”

 

Bucky’s ears heard Y/n approaching before she even crossed the border. A flurry of emotions danced through him; relief, excitement, love. He liked to think he was as in tune with Y/n as he could hope to be, but he couldn’t help but worry when Y/n sent a raven on claiming that she would be delayed another day due to unforeseen circumstances. Y/n could take care of herself, he had to constantly remind himself. She survived the Ice, didn’t she?

He was with Clint when his ears picked up her voice. They were discussing the upcoming ceremony but Bucky trailed off mid-sentence. The Chief of the Forest Tribes simply rolled his eyes. “Go get her, then. I’ll give you ten shells if you can actually hit her.”

Bucky grinned at the challenge and ducked out of the clearing. He adjusted his bow before grabbing the sturdiest branch on the nearest tree. He let the trees guide him, moving this way and that before the sound of horses reached his ears.

His ears counted three horses, which was slightly strange, but Bucky hooked a leg around a branch to steady himself, pulling the bowstring back to the corner of his mouth. He let the arrow fly and the curse fell out of his mouth almost immediately when the arrow was plucked out of the air.

“What was it this time?” Y/n called out to him. His mouth curled into a grin. “Two shells if you get my stomach? Five if you get my head?”

Bucky stepped off his perch and landed a stone’s throw away from them. He guided his legs over to them lazily, gaze flitting to the newcomer riding next to Y/n. He wore traditional tribal armour, his skin bronzed from the sun and his hair like liquid gold. Between Y/n and this mystery man, Bucky feared his brain overexerting itself. “Who?” He managed, nodding to the newcomer.

“Steve. He was a slave.” Y/n said.

“A slave?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes drifting along the man’s muscular body. “Does he still have his balls?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “As far as I can tell.”

Bucky had to admit he was intrigued by the man’s golden hair. Such a colour could not be found for miles. “Where is he from?”

“Where do you think?”

He could feel both his expression and his heart harden. “Can he be trusted?”

“I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

“So that’s a no.”

Y/n huffed and turned to the slave, Steve, speaking in the Common Tongue. Bucky always intended to learn at a more advanced level but he’d never exactly found the time. He paced over to Y/n and her horse, climbing on gracefully and wrapping his arms around her. “I’ve missed you.” Bucky murmured in her ear. “The days have been long and the nights even longer so.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect the delay.” She put a hand on his thigh comfortingly. “He is the unforeseen circumstances I told you about. Pierce gave him to me. He wanted me to help him attack the Iron Kingdom as payment for such an exotic slave.”

“He certainly is exotic.” Bucky agreed. “And Pierce is an idiot. Doesn’t he know our alliance with the Iron Kingdom is older than history?”

Y/n simply hummed, not bothering to remove her hand from his thigh and Bucky growled in pent up frustration. “Behave yourself.” She warned.

“But I have a gift for you.” Bucky whined.

Y/n sighed. “You know I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

“Y/n.”

“Fine.” She squeezed his thigh. “What is it, then?”

“Well, the first part is something you wear.” Bucky whispered into her ear. “And the second part is something I wear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two scenes basically happen at the same time and the weird language is a different one i made up because i was bored and procrastinating  
> In this i imagine Bucky acts like pre-war Bucky and WS Bucky smushed together, has the general body build and skill-set of WS Bucky but doesn't have a metal arm but interpret him as you will  
> I also kind of figure that, since in this world they don't have guns/rifles, Bucky would be a master archer :)  
> Comments and kudos are welcome :)


	8. Begging You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was something… crawling over his face.
> 
> He didn’t know what it was, he didn’t really want to know, but it scuttled over his face, poking him in the eye.
> 
> “Sorry, sorry.” Someone said and the creature was lifted away from his face. Steve opened his eyes to see a man with sandy blond hair, a bow slung over his shoulders and armour with leafy/floral patterns. Clutched in his hands was a relatively plump rodent that was wriggling impatiently.
> 
> “What is that?” Steve asked.
> 
> “Is Lucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually alive! (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated :)

Steve watched as Bucky slid off the horse right at the edge of the camp, gazing up at Mistress adoringly. She said something to him and Bucky pouted. Mistress ran her fingers through his hair and Bucky eventually trudged off, his stride slightly stilted.

“Should I take him to the Fourth, Y/n?” Natasha asked.

Mistress turned back to look at them. “Yes, I think so. Steve, Natasha will take you to get settled in. Once I have dealt with some affairs, I will come and check up on you. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

With that, she urged her horse away at a quick trot. Steve felt a lump form in his throat and his watering eyes drifted to Natasha.

“Don’t worry.” She assured. “It’s nothing personal. She slips into her Chief persona, especially if she’s been away for a while.”

A part of Steve’s training had been developing a dependence on someone, be it his Master/Mistress or handler. A physical ache bloomed in his chest, his vision starting to tunnel. Steve felt his breath be stolen from him and in a desperate attempt to reclaim it, he felt himself start to wheeze from the effort. He couldn’t hear the redhead’s panicked voice, the sound of his blood pumping through his ears being the most prominent.

 

There was something… crawling over his face.

He didn’t know what it was, he didn’t really want to know, but it scuttled over his face, poking him in the eye.

“Sorry, sorry.” Someone said and the creature was lifted away from his face. Steve opened his eyes to see a man with sandy blond hair, a bow slung over his shoulders and armour with leafy/floral patterns. Clutched in his hands was a relatively plump rodent that was wriggling impatiently.

“What is that?” Steve asked.

“Is Lucky.” The man said brightly, releasing the rodent and it leapt off his hands, spreading its limbs and gliding onto the bedpost.

Steve looked around and realised he was in a hut of some sort. The bed he lay on was lined with furs and there was a small fire pit in the middle of the hut. “Where am I?”

“Four.” The man said.

“That’s really not helpful.”

“I am bad at Tongue.” The man shrugged. “Clint.”

“Steve.”

They remained in awkward silence until the flap covering the doorway of the hut was pulled aside and Mistress stepped in. She looked…. Devastated?

“Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry.” Mistress perched on the edge of the bed, stroking his hair away from his face. Steve felt the tension in his muscles drain away. “I’m not very well versed in how to care for… well.”

“A slave.” Steve finished.

“Yes.” She looked sad. His Mistress was sad and Steve didn’t know why.

“Have I been bad?” He asked. “Have I upset you?”

Mistress shook her head vehemently, pushing him back down when Steve tried to sit up. “No, Steve. If anything, I’ve been bad.”

Steve did not understand. His Mistress couldn’t be bad, that’s not how it works. His Mistress is always good and right to punish her slave whenever she saw fit. Perhaps she was upset? Yes, that was it. She wanted to feel better and so that job fell to Steve because he was just a thing to be used, right?

“Do you want to use my mouth?” Steve asked, fumbling over his words. “I can take away the badness – if you’ll let me – please just-“

“Steve, Steve, there’s no need.” Mistress soothed. “You’re not a slave, Steve. Not anymore. Not here. Not anywhere. I won’t use you, especially not now.”

His heart started beating wildly. Mistress wasn’t going to use him? But- but that was all he was good for! He was nothing but a toy so how was he supposed to prove his worth if his Mistress wouldn’t let him show her? Perhaps pass him around to the other Tribespeople. Yes, then he’d pull his weight. A slave with no purpose was a dead slave-

“Steve.”

Steve realised he must’ve been talking aloud, babbling without restraint, because Mistress was soothing and comforting him.

“Get some rest.” She urged, pressing a kiss to his forehead. As if by magic, Steve’s eyelids tugged themselves down against his will and refused to open.

 

“You tell me if he awakens.” Y/n ordered the guard who nodded sharply.

She strode away from the Fourth and ignored Clint who jogged after her. “Chief.” He greeted. “You have a slave.”

“There are no slaves here.” Y/n reminded him.

“Chief.” Clint huffed, making Y/n stop in her tracks and turn to face him. “Do you know how slaves are… made?”

“I know they’re brainwashed.” She said eventually. “I know they’re… conditioned. They’re trained in the art of pleasure.”

“A part of their conditioning is… well, you know how baby ducks will follow you around if you’re the only one present at their birth?”

“Are you comparing Steve to a duck?”

“A baby duck.” Clint corrected. “Slaves are conditioned to stay close to their Master or Mistress. And, in their eyes, their Master or Mistress cannot do wrong. It is not a thing to them.”

“Thank you for reminding me of what I momentarily forgot in a bid to return to my people.” Y/n snapped. “I am not perfect and neither are you.”

 

The potent arousal that had been curling in Bucky flagged when Y/n stomped into the hut and sat down on the edge of the bed before flopping back unceremoniously.

“What happened?” Bucky asked.

Y/n sat up, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Do you remember that story of the Sun?”

Bucky hummed, crawling up behind her and started to massage her shoulders. “You’ll have to remind me.”

“The Sun became friends with a bird one day and they danced for as long as the Sun was in the sky. But then the day was over and the Sun was eager to awaken the other side of the world, left without any consideration of the bird’s feelings.”

“And the bird was hurt and fell from the sky.” Bucky nodded. “I remember.”

“Why am I Chief?” Y/n sighed. Chiefhood was not a title passed down family lines, unlike most other Kingdoms. Instead, the Tribespeople unanimously vote a leader, a Chief. At least, that was how it was usually done. For the first time in history, one family has held the title of Chief and has been passed down from Mother to Daughter.

“Because when your mother perished and there was no one to lead us, you took up the mantle and led us to victory in the War.” Bucky reminded. “And you love the People and you are so diplomatic I’m not sure you’re even real.”

Y/n huffed a laugh. “I’m most certainly real.”

Bucky merely replied by kissing her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The huts are called the First, Second etc just because  
> *Mentions of slavery process  
> **Steve also has a panic attack btw but it's not explicit  
> *Lucky is a flying squirrel  
> Thank you to all the lovely comments so far (◕‿◕✿)


	9. This Is Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky sighed and pulled Y/n into a kiss. “I feel like if you weren’t with me then I’d be killed by my own stupidity.”
> 
> “That’s probably true.” She smiled and traced a finger over his lips.
> 
> “Chief! There is a matter-“
> 
> Clint stopped and stared at them.
> 
> “You’re not busy, are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Easter!

“Where did you learn that?” Y/n asked, snuggling up to Bucky after they cleaned themselves up.

Bucky huffed. “How do you know I didn’t know how to do that before?”

“Because you couldn’t bend that way before I left.” She said, wrapping her arms around him.

Bucky pouted. “I was bendy before.”

“But you’re even bendier now.” Y/n began carding a hand through Bucky’s hair, coaxing purrs from his chest. Bucky relaxed into the sensations.

He hummed. “I notice the slave doesn’t like tribal life.”

“He’s only been here a day.” Y/n berated. “And don’t call him a slave, James. There are no slaves here. You were just as overwhelmed when you came here from HYDRA.”

Bucky squirmed uncomfortably at the name. “I suppose.” He sighed. “Do you actually intend to keep him here?”

Y/n was quiet for a moment. “He can’t go home.” She said eventually.

“Why not?”

“He was taken from the Fire Isles.” Y/n sat up and Bucky turned to face her. “How do you think those people will react once they find out that we’ve one of their own as a slave?”

Bucky knew full well what could happen. They could send assassins, loyalists to the country. They could send a full-frontal assault and while it wouldn’t end very well for them, it would be a bit of a nuisance for Y/n. She’d been working hard to try and repair the relationship with them. Bucky had never been especially interested in politics, much preferring to tend to the inner workings of the tribes, but even he knew the relationship between the Tribes and the Fire Isles was balanced on a thin blade.

One of the princes of the Fire Isles had killed the consort of one of the Tribespeople, the tribespeople demanded blood and took it by killing a minor Lord or something similar. It just spiralled out of control from there. Bucky considered them to be rather unreasonable as when the Fire Isles were invaded by HYDRA, they became angry that the Tribespeople didn’t prevent the invasion. The invasion occurred over the Winter Solstice, a time when all of the tribes grouped together against the darkness and when it was forbidden to shed blood on any soil or water.

“Are you going to marry him off to someone? Wanda, perhaps?”

The Kingdom of Sokovia had been a long-serving ally of the Tribes and currently had a pair of twins sitting upon the throne. Their way of life was similar to that of the Iron Kingdom and probably more like what the slave was used to.

“You know that’s not how it works.” Y/n reminded. “It must be unanimous.”

Bucky sighed and pulled Y/n into a kiss. “I feel like if you weren’t with me then I’d be killed by my own stupidity.”

“That’s probably true.” She smiled and traced a finger over his lips.

“Chief! There is a matter-“

Clint stopped and stared at them.

“You’re not busy, are you?”

Bucky glared at Clint as Y/n pulled away and started putting her armour back on. “We were just finishing.” Y/n assured. “What’s wrong?”

“Sharon demands a council meeting.”

Y/n groaned. “What does she want this time?”

“It’s about Steve.”

“Of course it is.” Bucky muttered.

Y/n ignored him. “You may as well grant it. I won’t be long.”

 

Steve had no idea why he was in trouble, only that he was. Bucky, Mistress’s consort-to-be had barged into the hut, waking Steve up out of a deep sleep.

“Come.” Bucky ordered. “Up.” When Steve didn’t move, Bucky hauled Steve to his feet by gripping his upper arm. “Now.” Bucky ordered and started walking.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked.

Bucky ignored him and kept walking.

They eventually came to an area where Steve could look down at the sea. A semicircle of seven seats faced away from the sea, each of equal size. Mistress sat on the one in the middle, Clint sat on her right side and a woman with long dark hair sat to Mistress’ left, two seats away from her. A woman with long blonde hair sat on a chair tacked on the end of the semicircle and it was wooden and looked very uncomfortable.

“ _Is daskal daych ushuskal_.” Bucky announced. Oh good, another language Steve didn’t know.

The blonde woman eyed him. “ _Daysh ish isdee? Dach ish eicherzech norelar askadaych jayshka is iskorshaorm_.”

“ _Korisach elymler dyrerorm_.” Mistress scowled. It was an expression Steve never wanted to see directed at him.

“ _Lereichnorler, elym lerkaerza erich daisorm dayska ska zedaisusach. Elym aisus erich korezeza skaer dareralach ormymush_.” Clint pointed out.

“ _Elym daskauch erich asreaich daich_.” Natasha said coolly.

“ _Zeskaer aich ormeich orskaze dyre daych korkadyler skady daskaerach_?” Mistress prompted.

The blond woman drew herself up. “ _Is aiskaerdi elym dyre usheichach dachkor orskazeza dyre aidaich dach zeskakor. Dach daskaush eich asuskaze aisday ymush_.”

“ _Elym daskal erich asleorusichor koreich_.” Bucky pointed out.

“ _Skaerach eleich dach ish ska dareich ska orichachushusal. Is aireymusach eredy orich ushdarezeza isle dach daskach ska asymushou iserushdychach rele ska zerezeza_.” Blonde sneered.

“ _Aidoel achisch elym relerach dais daichler? Dyre daylere iserushymusdy skady dais_?” Clint asked tiredly.

“ _Dyre askaush korel reair maymahormkoredy_.” The blond said, a hint of arrogance lacing her tone.

“ _Is dayserza aichler achrer daichler_.” Mistress stood. “ _Zerekor orskazeza aidaer elym skazedymusel daskal ska aslereoruskor_.”

 

Natasha had never been a big fan of Sharon. She believed that because her aunt was once the advisor to Y/n’s mother, it meant that she was entitled to the same rights as Y/n. Chief humoured Sharon but Natasha could tell that Sharon was pushing her luck by insulting Steve.

“Why did you order him here? To throw insults at him?” Clint asked tiredly.

“To pass my own judgment.” The blond said, a hint of arrogance lacing her tone. Natasha rolled her eyes at that. She doubted that any judgment Sharon made wouldn’t be credited by anyone sensible.

“I think we’re done here.” Y/n stood. “Come back when you have an actual problem.”

Natasha followed closely behind Y/n as they crossed over to Steve and Bucky. “ _Well that was fun_.” Bucky snarked, narrowing his eyes at Sharon. “ _Do you still need me for anything or can I escape_?”

“ _You can go_.” Y/n nodded, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s lips before he scampered off into the trees. “I’m sorry about that, Steve.” She said, helping Steve to his feet. “I had hoped you’d get more sleep before dinner.” At the mention of dinner, Steve’s stomach rumbled. The poor man went slightly pink.

Natasha smirked. “It won’t be long now.” She assured.

Y/n led them over to a fire pit and they sat down. It was lined with crude square stones and the fire burned green.

“Why is it green?” Steve asked, peering into the flames.

“It’s everlasting.” Y/n said. “It can burn on water, turn stone to dust.” She shrugged.

Natasha could see a thousand questions were staining at Steve’s mouth in order to be heard, but he was doing a very good job at keeping them at bay.

“You have questions.” Y/n noted. “You can ask them.”

“You won’t be punished for asking questions.” Natasha added.

Steve pursed his lips. “Why were you speaking a different language to the one in the forest?”

“At anything official, we speak that language known as Korerdy, ‘Moon Speak’.” Y/n shrugged. “It’s just tradition. There is a lot of history and culture behind it.”

“Go on then.” Natasha urged, throwing her a smirk.

Y/n sent Natasha a look before turning back to Steve. “A thousand times a thousand years ago, when the world was still being put together, the Moon was tasked with guiding the Crafters as they worked when the Sun could not. When the world was finally at a stage where it could progress naturally, Moon was thrown to Earth by the comet that marked the birth of the Earth. It fell to the Irasmar. The seas were drawn to the Moon, the tide trying to pull the Moon to sea so it could return to the sky. Moon reached over there, at those seats.” Y/n pointed. “For the first time, the Tribes came together and lifted Moon back into the sky. When it was safely fixed back in place, as a thanks, the Moon leads us through the Dark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, there is a legitimate reason for throwing another 'language' at you; I picked up the wrong pieces of paper and started writing the dialogue in that language rather than the first and i was tired so i thought 'sod it' and kept going. It's basically written how it sounds with a few abnormalities thrown in there.
> 
> Comments, kudos etc fuel my motivation :)


	10. If Nobody Else Believes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Remember, you failed the first time?”
> 
> “Okay, it was not my fault that Scott put fire ants in my armour.”
> 
> “But it was your fault turning up too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mentions of domestic abuse

“No.”

“But-“

“No, Clint.”

“But this would solve your problem!”

Clint had spent his whole life knowing Y/n and he still couldn’t help but be cowed by Y/n’s glare that quite clearly told him to shut up. He was well aware that his solution was a ridiculous one but it would allow Steve to stay without Sharon bothering Y/n about his presence.

“It takes years to be disciplined enough to become one of us in more than just name.” Y/n reminded. “Remember, you failed the first time?”

“Okay, it was not my fault that Scott put fire ants in my armour.”

“But it was your fault turning up too late.”

Clint sighed. “Look, I like Steve. He’s adapting well enough to tribal life.”

Y/n looked to where Hope was listening. “What say you?”

Hope pursed her lips. “I think he should be given a chance.”

Clint clapped his hands cheerfully. “Brilliant! We should be done by his birthday, no?”

“His birthday is two months away.” Y/n pointed out.

Clint grimaced. “Please tell me you’re joking.” Y/n raised an eyebrow. “You’re not joking. Well, crap.” He cursed. “But I promise! I can do it! I can help him become one of us!”

Y/n leaned back on her seat and sighed. “Very well, Clinton son of Edith, Chief of the Forest Tribes. You are so very determined to take up this role. Teach him, guide him. How far you push him and how rigorous you are in your teaching methods depends on how badly you want Sharon to get off your back on these matters.”

Clint… was happy, but he didn’t expect Y/n to make him be the one to teach Steve. He assumed Y/n would set Scott or Sam on the task. He nodded to Y/n. “Of course.”

“And Clinton.” Y/n leaned towards him, expression scarily calm. “If you break him I will break you. Do you understand?”

Clint gulped and nodded vigorously. “I understand.”

“Am I interrupting?”

Y/n leaned back in her seat. “Of course not, Sharon. We’ve just come to a conclusion.”

Clint’s nose wrinkled at the blond standing before them. Sam was standing a few paces behind her, looking at the ground. That made Clint’s blood boil. Everyone could see how Sharon had beaten and bruised the most lovable man in the tribes. He’d been a friend to everyone and everyone enjoyed his company. He was a great and respected warrior, earning himself a place as Castellan. And then Sharon had taken him and closed him off from the world.

“Oh? And what was that?”

Clint bristled. The subject of council meetings were private to everyone who was not part of the council unless it involved you.

“A matter for another time.” Y/n deflected. “Why are you here?”

“My necklace was stolen.”

Clint could see Y/n counting backwards from ten. “You’re here to report a theft.” Clint reiterated.

“We will investigate.” Y/n assured. “Did you see it being taken?”

“Well, no-“

“Do you have any idea who could’ve taken it?”

“Well, no-“

“While we investigate, I suggest you search under your bed and blankets.” Y/n suggested. “Things often fall astray when we’re not paying attention.”

“We must search for it! Now!” Sharon insisted. “It was my Aunt Peggy’s-“

Y/n held up a hand to stop her. “Sentimentality is often worth more than any jewel, I agree. But if you stand and watch a tree in the hopes that it will bear fruit before your eyes, I’m afraid that is something that seldom happens.” Sharon’s mouth clicked shut. “You are dismissed.”

Sharon glared at Chief before turning on her heel and stomping away. Sam followed her, averting his eyes from everyone.

“I’m going to go grey before I have children.” Y/n sighed.

“I feel like Sam wouldn’t be this miserable if Riley were here.” Clint mused.

Riley was Sam’s childhood and best friend. They were in love with each other before they knew what love was. They fought together, drank together, danced together. And then came the War. Sam, Riley, Bucky, Hope and a few others were returning from a battle when Riley contracted Extremis. It was a nasty disease that forced the body’s core temperature to rise to a dangerous level, creating internal burns and essentially cooking your insides.

Nothing in the known world could treat it, let alone cure it, except for the cold. Extremis was highly infectious from skin contact and could decimate cities within hours. The last any of them had seen Riley was when Y/n ventured into the Ice with Riley at her side. When Y/n returned alone, the tribes mourned the loss.

Sharon had taken advantage of Sam then, catching him when he was grieving and in despair. Within weeks, he was her consort and the torment had begun.

“That’s a known fact.” Hope huffed. “I need to get back to Scott and Cassie.” Y/n nodded and Hope left, hurrying to return to her family.

 

Steve felt like it would take a while to get used to how dinner was done. Everyone collected around the fire, sharing their meal with everyone else. It was a time of rest and recuperation. At other mealtimes, you were left to fend for yourself. It took Steve a while to pluck up the courage to ask Mistress for something to eat one morning. She’d looked at him in concern and told him the hamper of food in Four was for him. He was surprised when, instead of waiting to be served, Mistress helped some of the others serve up dinner before eventually settling down beside Steve and Bucky who’d been sitting in stony silence.

“Steve?” Clint said, poking Steve’s shoulder. “I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Steve swallowed his mouthful. “Go ahead.”

“I am to… teach you to be us.”

Steve frowned. “I-I don’t understand.”

“One of tribe? Tribe member? One us?”

“Oh, um, alright. How would I… how would we do that?”

“You must learn to dance with waves and sing with trees. You must learn to pray to Moon and respect Old Gods. You must learn the languages of our people and be able to hold conversation. You must learn old ways and new. You must be learned in weapon you choose.” Clint recited.

Steve grimaced. “When does this have to be done by?”

“Your day birth. Chief will test you, see if you pass.” Clint nodded to Mistress. “Then you be us!” He grinned.

 

For the week that Steve had been with the Tribe, he’d mostly helped Clint or Mistress with their duties. He’d woken up a few hours after the sun, a blessing after such a strict regime by his handlers. It was a shock to the system when Clint barged into Steve’s Four and dragged him out of bed.

“Why are we awake?” Steve asked sleepily. He noticed everyone else was up and active and suddenly he felt a lazy.

“Every morning, we run.” Clint explained as he led them over to where Mistress and Bucky were talking with the same woman who was there at the council meeting.

The brunette eyed Steve. “Good morning, Steve. I’m Hope.”

Steve bowed his head, even though Clint nudged him. Right, of course. Apparently he wasn’t a slave so he didn’t need to bow.

“ _Ta lum yunkal esertay hal oulaul elues lua eserj umase_.” Bucky said as Hope wandered off to a man with curly dark hair.

“ _Chues, falu_.” Mistress berated him. “It’s good to see you up and about, Steve.” She smiled.

“ _La falu esertay hal oumatas yula lua_?” Bucky spoke again and he yelped as Mistress pinched his ribs.

“Ignore him, Steve.” Mistress advised. “Bucky is always grumpy in the morning before food.”

Steve glanced at Bucky who was- was he pouting? He was rubbing where Mistress had pinched and leaning heavily into Mistress’ side.

“Clint said we were running.” Steve said. “Is that a normal thing?”

“Oh yes, we do it every morning.” Mistress said. They had made their way down to the beach via a path along the cliff.

“When do we start?”

“When the horses come.” Mistress said and nodded to the horizon. If Steve squinted, he could see specks of colour steadily growing larger as they drew closer to the beach.

Horses of all colours and patterns trotted out of the sea, shaking the salt and seaweed out of their manes. The horses seemed to have favourite people because they immediately made their way to certain people. One chestnut horse that had grey colouring over its front left leg nuzzled up against Bucky.

Without any prompting, tribespeople and their horses started running alongside each other along the beach through the surf. Bucky jogged off with his chestnut horse beside him, grinning back at Mistress. Clint huffed and sped off after him.

Mistress turned to him, a silver-white horse by her side. “Are you ready?” She asked. “Your mentor has abandoned you.”

“He does seem the type.” Steve nodded.

Mistress smiled. “C’mon, let’s get running.”

 

Bucky could feel his hackles raise as he watched Clint approach with Steve in tow. He curled his arm around Y/n’s waist as she and Hope continued to talk about the issues to the West.

Hope introduced herself to Steve before walking over to where Scott was.

“I didn’t think he could get up this early.” Bucky said.

“Quiet, you.” Y/n berated him. She exchanged more pleasantries with Steve until Bucky couldn’t resist.

“Do you think he can keep up?” Bucky spoke again and he yelped as Y/n pinched his ribs. He pouted and rubbed where she’d pinched. He was always very tickling there, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone. Y/n had found out completely by accident and wasn’t afraid to exploit his weakness every now and then.

The horses emerged from the sea and his mare, Winter, nuzzled up to him. Bucky started jogging with others of the tribe, smirking back at Y/n and Clint. His fellow archer huffed and sped off after him.

“Why did you have to bring him?” Bucky asked, jogging along at a leisurely pace as Clint huffed and puffed in an effort to keep up with him.

“I’m training him to try and pass First Rites.” Clint explained as his own horse chivvied him along.

“What?” Bucky squawked. “Why? You’re insane!”

Clint grinned and just kept running.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have gathered, this fic is not Sharon friendly. I'm sorry if you like her but... no, just no.   
> Comments and kudos fuel my motivation :)  
> *poor Sam! Don't worry, he has a happy ending!


	11. A Ladder To The Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s a good man.” Mistress mused. “He does have a reputation for being incredibly… fierce and dangerous. Just don’t tell anyone I told you he’s actually very nice.” She winked at him and kept walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, exams got in the way but i am still alive if a bit traumatised.  
> If you have any questions feel free to ask

“Salas masu falu ellatasel.” Clint said slowly and clearly. “Repeat.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Sala maso ellatasal.”

Clint groaned. “That make no sense!”

Steve sighed and fell back onto the grass. “I’m sorry, Clint! I’m no good with languages! It took me five years to learn the languages my Masters used when I was taken as a slave.”

“It will came with time.” Clint promised.

“What did that mean, anyway? It couldn’t have meant hello.” Steve frowned.

Clint shook his head. “Salas masu falu ellatasel ask where you going.”

“Why?”

“You ask, they tell North, West, East, South. Help us knew where we was.” Clint explained.

“How are the lessons going?” Mistress asked, approaching them with Natasha close behind her.

“Eseraj te etay esmeytasel esta tu deima.” Clint complained.

Mistress scratched her chin. “Saler elates leta tas esmete falu esla jesmas esmeytasel?” Clint flushed pink slightly and Mistress turned to Steve. “Steve, would you like to go for a walk?”

Steve nodded, relieved to have a moment free of Clint’s lessons and terrible Common Word.

They walked in silence, winding through the camp. Steve spotted all sorts of trades, some of which he wasn’t even aware existed. Everyone seemed to be frantically rushing around, as if preparing for something.

“Every month we go to the market. Market day is in ten days.” Mistress explained. “It’s a chance to trade, get supplies, meet new people.” She shrugged.

“Who do you trade with?” Steve asked before he could stop himself. He braced himself for punishment, for correction, but none came.

“Anyone that wants to.” Mistress shrugged. “Merchants often come from far and wide to trade.”

Steve spotted Bucky teaching some young children how to use their bows. He was startled at the contrast to whenever Steve had spoken to Bucky. Gone was the harsh exterior and instead he was gentle and kind and patient.

“He’s a good man.” Mistress mused. “He does have a reputation for being incredibly… fierce and dangerous. Just don’t tell anyone I told you he’s actually very nice.” She winked at him and kept walking.

 

They trekked down to the beach and to a small opening in the side of the cliff. Water pooled around Steve’s feet as he followed his Mistress until they came to a large cove, so big Steve didn’t know how he hadn’t spotted it.

The water was crystal clear and in the water, Steve could see colourful plants and even more colourful fish. Large, old trees cast shadows and provided shade, relieving them from the intense heat of the sun.

“This place is beautiful.” Steve breathed, watching a pair of baby rabbits playing with each other in the flowers.

“This is where all bonding ceremonies take place.” Mistress said. “Some say this tree is the connection between the godly world and our world, planted by Dendratma himself.” Steve knew from Clint’s lessons that Dendratma was the sea god.

“This is like something out of a fairytale.” Steve said. He vaguely remembered fairy tales being told to him as bedtime stories, during a time when Steve didn’t have the scars on his back and Steve could still remember his mother’s smiling face. Steve spotted flowers, pale and translucent, spread out on the grass. Some were even poking up from the sand. “What are these?”

“It is said that those flowers are from the Moon’s tears when she finally had to return to the sky, sad to be parted from the Earth.” Mistress explained. “This place is even more breath-taking at night.”

She let him wander for a bit, satisfying his curiosity and amazement at the beauty of the place. Steve even managed to befriend a pair of deer that were grazing nearby. Eventually, he came and sat down next to where Mistress had settled herself by the biggest tree. “Steve, I must admit that I didn’t come here to just show you this beautiful place.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Steve asked, eyes wide.

“Bucky and I… Our Bonding ceremony is tomorrow night. The day of exact balance between light and dark.” Mistress said.

Steve tried not to let his face fall in disappointment, but he had a feeling he wasn’t very successful. “That’s great news, congratulations.”

“There are many traditions that must take place during a bonding ceremony.” Mistress continued. Steve frowned, wondering why she was telling him this. “Seven warriors will challenge Bucky before Dendratma to prove his worth. If he is considered worthy, then he will be victorious. If not…” She trailed off. “I only tell you this because I fear Sharon may attempt to persuade you to put yourself forward as one of the Seven. She may promise you your heart’s desire but you must refuse. I am not asking you this as your friend but as your Chief, your Queen.”

Steve nodded. “I understand.”

Mistress sighed and Steve suddenly noticed how tired she seemed. “Let us head back.”

Steve followed his Mistress before she stopped abruptly. A moment later, Steve heard a rustling noise.

From the trees high up on the cliffs, Steve saw a man jump down onto the ground below. He wore black, non-descript clothing with a blade hanging from his belt.

Mistress moved herself in front of Steve, eyeing the man warily. “Steve, when I ell you to run, you run.” She told him quietly.

“But Mistress-“

“Do as I say.” Mistress snapped. “Declare yourself.” She ordered the man.

“I am Aldred, son of Eaird. Word has it that you have one of our own among the seahorses you call men.” The man growled. He had sandy hair and green eyes, but otherwise looked vaguely similar to Steve.

Mistress met him halfway, sword drawn and showing no mercy. Eaird’s movements were powerful but he wasn’t fast enough to keep up with Mistress. “Run!” She barked at him.

Steve was torn between helping her and following her orders. But what could he do? He couldn’t fight… but he could get help.

Thanks to his long legs, Steve could cover ground quickly and it wasn’t long before he skidded to a halt before the archer. “Bucky!”

 

Bucky jerked his head up at the sound of his name. He was mildly surprised to see the slave was the one who spoke, running towards him and earning himself some strange looks. The man panted and gasped for breath, blabbering far too quickly for Bucky to make any sense of what he was saying.

He got to his feet as Steve made gestures urging him somewhere. Steve kept repeating something that Bucky didn’t understand and grabbed his hand, tugging him along when Bucky wasn’t going fast enough.

Slightly affronted, Bucky tugged his hand back but kept pace with the slave as he tried to ignore the tingling in his hand.

He was surprised to see the slave leading him to Dendratma’s Bay.

The sounds of sword meeting sword met Bucky’s ears and Bucky picked up the pace, readying his bow. He passed slowly through the tunnel, careful not to draw attention to himself.

They emerged just in time to see a man swinging an axe at Y/n when her back was turned. The man howled in pain when an arrow sprouted from his hand and he dropped the axe. Bucky shoved Steve behind him and turned his attention to a pair of men who came charging at him.

Bucky swiftly took them down, breaking a few of their bones along the way. “Sometimes I think you like fighting.”

“If it’s any consolation, there was only one to start with.” Y/n offered, punching one man in the face as Bucky shot a man perched in the trees waiting to strike.

“Is that all of them?” Bucky asked, walking over to Y/n and casting a critical eye over her for any injuries. There was a dull thud and Bucky turned to see the slave holding a thick stick with a man at his feet, unconscious. “Evidently not.”

 

Steve had fallen to the ground when Bucky shoved him out of the way. He felt utterly helpless as he watched Mistress and Bucky fight off the attackers.

“J’latestae ta esertay falu etay altaesel.” Bucky huffed, punching one of them in the groin.

“Tal tas matas oulasajmes, eseruas lataese nas esla jesmas sataes.” Mistress replied as Bucky shot a man down from the trees.

“Te esermes sel emajes lal eserute?” Bucky asked, moving over to Mistress.

Steve felt a surge of panic when a man began creeping over to Mistress and Bucky, weapon in hand. He grabbed the nearest stick, stood and whacked the man around the head as hard as he could.

“Ututalas y’melta.” Bucky grunted, looking at Steve in mild surprise.

 

Natasha, Clint and several others emerged looking concerned. “What happened?” Natasha asked. “We saw a terrified Steve dragging Bucky here.”

“Esmy eseruj teutas esla kalzel.” Mistress ordered. Steve watched as the men were bound, gagged and taken away.

“No one shed any blood, did they?” Natasha asked. Mistress shook her head.

Clint leaned over to Steve. “No blood must spills on flowers. They is sacred. Punishment was death.”

Mistress came over to Steve. “Are you alright?” He shook his head.

Bucky trudged over looking like a rather petulant child, keeping his gaze fixed on Steve’s shoulder. “Ah, I was… You are… You do…” He stomped his foot in frustration. “Suluj esue hil ta jemef esermy falu.”

Mistress raised an eyebrow. “Esue hil faluasjue.” Bucky grumbled as Mistress cleared her throat. “Thank.”

“Thank.” Bucky replied mulishly.

“You.”

“You.” Bucky’s grey eyes met Steve’s. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day of exact balance between light and dark aka the Spring equinox  
> Constructive criticism is welcome, as are kudos and comments :)


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